


Silk

by astraielle, ghoulaesthetics (astraielle)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 15:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraielle/pseuds/astraielle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraielle/pseuds/ghoulaesthetics
Summary: The warm sunlight streaming through the outer wall that was composed solely out of windows hung heavy in the air, making up for any lost warmth when the blanket fell off the bed and landed next to Cat’s discarded slip. She had, of course, been wearing nothing underneath. Coaxed awake by Jesse’s roaming hands and lips on her jaw, the sex was unhurried.





	Silk

**Author's Note:**

> "Send me 🔥 + a word and I will write a NSFW headcanon for my muse", and the word was silk. Obviously, a bit more than a headcanon here lmao. I haven't really posted much about Cat in Overwatch before, but that may change in the future, who knows?

Catrina Liakos looked damn good in silk. 

Well, she looked good in just about anything, but the point still stood. 

Jesse wasn’t even sure where she got half her clothes from, an eclectic style that seemed to change every time he saw her. Not that it much mattered, because soon enough neither of them were wearing much at all. Vid calls and messaging could do a lot, but they didn’t quite compare to finally getting your hands on the real thing after months of fantasizing.  

Neither of them particularly craved domesticity, but sometimes it was nice to pretend for a while. A breather in the middle of the chaos. The security of Cat’s top floor apartment was ridiculously tight, enough that Jesse wasn’t too worried about what might happen if he wasted a weekend or two there. There was no Talon, no recall to worry about, no price on his head. If he wanted to waste a whole day lazing about in bed, he could. 

“Told you that damn silk slip would look better on my floor,” he grins around a cigarillo.  It’s Saturday morning, a few hours past sunrise. His arrival date was open, depending on when he’d finished his ‘outlaw business,’ as Cat called it, and he’d arrived so late the night before she barely even stirred when the bedroom door opened. Cat was doing quite a bit more than stirring now. 

“ _My_  floor,” she chuckles, riding him at a relaxed pace as she leans forward and plucks the cigarillo out of his mouth briefly catching his lip with her teeth before pulling back and taking a drag of it herself. For such an expensive place (and it was, the penthouse costing more than he knew because apparently, being one of the most successful thieves in the world paid quite well) he’d always felt odd about smoking any place inside. Which was hilarious, and unnecessary. First, she owned the building–the number of times they’d had sex on the roof was a testament to that. Second, Cat smoked just as much if not more than he did, albeit she preferred cigarettes. She couldn’t care less where on her property he decided to light up. “You might have a key, but you’re not paying rent.” A brief flash of teeth accompanied by a pair of sleepy, contented green eyes. She passes off he cigarillo to his metal hand and he reaches over to leave it resting on the ashtray on the bedside table. 

The warm sunlight streaming through the outer wall that was composed solely out of windows hung heavy in the air, making up for any lost warmth when the blanket fell off the bed and landed next to Cat’s discarded slip. She had, of course, been wearing nothing underneath. Coaxed awake by Jesse’s roaming hands and lips on her jaw, the sex was unhurried. A far cry from their sole frenzied hookup in their Blackwatch days, but then, so was everything else about the situation. 

“Guess that makes you a pretty terrible landlord, now don’t it?” With a bit of a grunt, he pushes himself up from his back and into a half sit. She meets him halfway, hands immediately finding his shoulders for balance. He knows he caught her off guard; she hadn’t bothered to sleep with her prosthetic leg on, and having only one shin evidently makes being on top a bit more of a challenge no matter how stubborn you were or how strong your thighs were.

He’s careful not to get his arm caught in her mass of inky black, wavy hair. It happened once before, and she was more than just a bit displeased with him for it. Of course, it wasn’t entirely his fault–she was distracting, especially when her clever thief’s hands deftly unlatched his belt and slipped down his pants, and it was easy to forget about those things when your mind was otherwise occupied. 

“If this wasn’t a hotel, then sure.” He can feel her smiling against him when she ducks her head down, kissing a steady line from his collarbone to his ear. She doesn’t have to be cautious with her hands like he does, and they explore his upper body freely. No doubt quietly taking inventory of all the new scars he’d gotten since the last time she saw him in person nearly eight months ago. The gaps were long, and the necessity of keeping contact to a minimum was strenuous at the best of times. 

A whispered  _Missed you_  by his ear is confirmation enough of that. 

He deliberately forgets about his arm once more, tightening his grip around her as much as he dares. Because for all they knew what they were getting into when they reconnected, for all they were consummate professionals who knew the risks of being high-profile criminals, it certainly didn’t make the sentiment any less mutual. 

_Missed you too, Catrina. Missed you too._


End file.
